For The Greater Good
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: For The I'm About To Die Challenge. Grindelwald contemplates his life in his last moments and whether or not his last lie was enough for redemption. R


_For the I'm about to die challenge_

_I don't own anything_

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_**Gellert Grindelwald **_

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Fifty three years I have been holed up in this cell in Nurmengard, the prison which _I_ founded myself to hold my enemies. I never once believed that I would be put here myself, by the person I used to be planning world domination with, nor that I would have no human contact whatsoever.

For the entire duration of my stay in the impenetrable cell I created for my most powerful of enemies, I have been able to see the sign out of the window that hangs over the entrance to Nurmengard:

**FOR THE GREATER GOOD**_._

I still believe that everything I did was for the greater good, that the plans I originally hatched with Albus but then intensified by myself were the right thing to do. It was the right thing to rid the world of Muggles… yet even _I_ see that Voldemort is taking it to a new extreme.

I once had the Elder Wand but I lost it to a worthy opponent: if Albus was able to defeat me as he was _without_ the Elder Wand advantage that I had, then he deserved it. I can only hope that he did _some_ good with it, for the years in this cell have been long and tiring to me. They have not aided my appearance and I have cause to believe that I am as skeletal in appearance as old possessors of this cell. I am going to die soon and for that I am glad, yet I am going to die as a Muggle for I have not practised magic in a time which almost reaches half of my life. Of course I _remember_ how to cast spells and such but I have never had an opportunity to since I lost the Elder Wand.

I hear noises from the gates below, the gates below the sign which I still believe to this day was the right path to take, and move slowly across the cell to look out. I have been waiting for this moment for the past thirty years, wondering just _when_ he would realise that Gregorovitch had the wand and then that I took it from him. I have been waiting for Voldemort to come and find out where the Elder Wand's location is. Surely, however, he must realise that I do not have it, that it is not in a cell with a man who has been locked in here for over half a century. If it was, then I would have used it to escape as soon as I possibly could, rather than fester here.

If I had it now… oh, the possibilities. But no… I am too old now to be in the world; I, and it is a miraculous thing to say, prefer this cell to the outside world. The guards here give me snippets of information and, from time to time, allow me the paper and I know that I would not survive. I am too old, too slow, too weak to survive out there – I wouldn't fit in.

Yet Voldemort will get the wand anyway. I know that he is brilliantly minded, almost as much as Albus himself, and that he shall deduce the location of the Elder Wand. Hitherto, I shall not tell him. I owe it to Albus, for the grievance I caused him in regards to the death of his sister, to keep quiet about it's location.

I retreat from the window to the small bunk by the wall where I have made my home for so long. I know he shall not bother with the door but rather use the window – it is the first rule in a Dark Wizard's Handbook, so to speak; never use the door. I do not know why, but it is what we do.

I smile at the utter absurdity of _Voldemort_ appearing in my cell in the highest tower of Nurmengard: he has never bothered with the Dark Wizard whose crown as the most feared wizard of all time he stole many years ago, so why now? Yet I know I have _had_ the thing that he desires the most, the thing that he believes will instate him as the most powerful wizard to have ever and will ever live… a pity, then, that it is not here.

My eyes open as I look up at the emotionless mask of a face he wears, amazed that someone so cold could still be living. Then again, if what I have heard is true, he isn't; he is merely fragments of his former self, never able to die… unless he is destroyed.

I decide to engage in conversation first, so that he cannot try and trick it out of me. I am going to lie; for Albus, for Ariana, for anyone I have hurt in regards to the one person I knew had any affection for me whatsoever.

"So, you have come. I thought you would… one day. But your journey was pointless. I never had it," I lie seamlessly, knowing I have to do this.

"You lie!" he exclaims in response, his anger the first emotion to appear on his face. It is palpable in the air, how he feels, yet I do not falter in my lies. I will not be intimidated by this man, if it is possible to still call him this: there are limits in which you can go to in evil for power and I fell short of them… just. However, this _thing_ has created new limits so far exceeding the previous ones that I know I have been decimated in the fight between us.

"No, I do not lie," I deign not to address him, not wishing to give him further credit. "I never had the wand. I never had it…" I rasp the repetition of my denial of possessing the thing that allowed me so much control in Europe. Yet I never had England: I never dared to go up against Albus, just as he didn't dare to oppose me… that is, until he knew he had no choice. I felt that I would win, but I didn't.

Voldemort's anger is ever more apparent, his moves almost slightly jerky rather than seamlessly silky as usual. He draws his wand from his cloak and I know what is coming, refusing to shut my eyes. I lied to protect this world, to protect Albus even in death, for a little longer though I know the puzzle shall soon be unravelled.

My eyes connect with the utterly animalistic ones of Voldemort and I hold his gaze for a moment, seeing nothing recognisable in them. He is an utter lost cause; there is nothing redeemable in him.

I do not hear the incantation which brings about my death – perhaps there is none, perhaps he prefers to use non-verbal to try and elevate his position. Yet it does not do that; it simply shows how he cannot even show an old man the decency of verbally killing him.

The shot of green light bursts out from the wand, blinding me. Yet by the time my eyes even contemplate recovering, I keel over. Suddenly, I am detached from my body, floating away to wherever it is that I shall go to now.

I can only hope that the redemption in my last moments, the way that I lied for Albus and the wand can have helped my standing in life. I hope my last deed of good was enough to exempt the pain which I caused during the rest of my life.

It was for the greater good, but perhaps I went about it the wrong way.

Actually, no, I didn't. I did the right thing and people just could not see it.

Oh, but how I wish they did.

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_Strange, writing a perspective which is both regretful and entirely unregretful at the same time._

_Review please_

_Vicky xx_


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